The doors to the Great Hall of Alamut, silently opened. Within the hall I beheld countless numbers of what now are my clan mates. There they stood silent and rock steady. They' were arrayed in two ranks, split evenly to make an aisle straight from the doors to the dais at the far end of the Hall. Halfway down the aisle, the black tiles of the floor bore a ancient sigil inlaid in silver and jade in the name Haqim. Along the wall stood the clan elders dressed in the ceremonial robes with Scimitars slung at their sides. At the far end of the aisle was a Black Throne, a squat seat of obsidian with a wooden shaft protruding from the right hand armrest. Upon the throne sat a dark figure our eyes met and through a silent beckoning I was drawn to him.

Now at this point I omit what took place as it is a sacred ritual that no outsider can know.

With the end of the ceremony I had became a full member of the Childer of Haqim. Not only was I accepted but I was welcomed into the ranks of the warriors.

There is something about the warriors caste that brings forth the pride in me. Nothing in my life before brought pride to me as this has. As I looked about I saw that Mancheaka, had taken a place near Lord Haqim. They looked down on me both with smiles on their faces. Within the chamber itself a joyous chant repeated.

Mancheaka came towards me smiling and welcoming me into a much relished embrace. For the seven years I learned everything I could, I  enjoyed Alamut.  Not knowing that this time there would be my last time spent with My sire. I was not with Mancheaka during the conflict with the Baali, that took her to her final rest. To this day I still find myself mourning her lost.